


Blackbeard

by roo1965



Series: Hounds of Love [2]
Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Psychological Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-08
Updated: 2012-03-08
Packaged: 2017-11-01 16:14:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/358779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roo1965/pseuds/roo1965
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack's home at last after four months of hell…scenes from his recovery…takes place over several months at least.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm just playing with themagainThanks to Tigger, Neet and GEM who read early versions but other than that any grammatical or medical mistakes are mine alone. Bouquets or brickbats to the usual addy.
> 
> sort of follows ‘ Black isn't a colour ' and ‘ Blackbird '; Geordie appears briefly in ‘ Iraq- Hounds of love sequence'; Sid appears in “Gone Fishing part 5: Taming The Body Thief”
> 
> written Dec 2004-May 2005
> 
> **Nominated Best Jack H/C in 2005 Jackfic.com Awards. **

**"A kiss. just a kiss** **Oh how long I have waited for this"** ["Miss Chatelaine" by kd lang ]

The Air Force had made a mistake. It wasn't unknown. But the man getting out of the car was not her husband Jack O'Neill.

Oh, the doctors and psychologists had * _tried*_ to explain. Tried to warn her what to expect from his injuries and rehabilitation. Sara had been issued booklets and leaflets. He'd been hurt before - that 'little parachuting mishap' as Jack referred to it. She'd seen him bad after that. The doctors had over done the pain relief and it had taken a while to wean him off them. Since then she couldn't get him to take a vitamin supplement let alone an aspirin and he hated hospitals and distrusted doctors. He'd take antibiotics if he had to, but pain pills- nope- not unless he was in extremis. Sara wondered how he was after this debacle.

Sara tried to imagine what he'd gone through. She'd talked to other wives. They had plenty of tales to tell. About 'so and so' from a unit telling his wife to get rid of all the knives in the kitchen because he didn't know what might happen if he had a flashback and found one. About nightmares, anger, restlessness, arguments 'you don't know what it was like!' But it still did not prepare her for the reality of it all. This was her Jack and he was back, against all the odds. And so now she stood at the front door, Charlie's small hand in hers.

Jack hadn't wanted her to visit him in the hospital, and the doctors had suggested she wait a while. He didn't want any fuss, or any big homecoming ceremony, though she felt he deserved one. Part of it she knew was because of the kind of unit he was in. They did not show their faces for security reasons, not like the other GROPOS and officers who'd gone out there. And she knew he'd been awarded another medal and a promotion was in the pipeline. She felt proud of him, but he'd been indifferent to the news she'd passed on over the phone from Frank.

All through the long months she just wanted him back, to have and to hold like their vows had promised. She'd been told he was MIA and probably dead. She knew how hard it must have been for Frank to come to the house to tell her. Jack was his friend and he'd left him behind. Of course she'd known as soon as she'd seen Frank that something was wrong.

So surely *this* was better than dead? She'd been through hell and back, but then so apparently had Jack. Sara wondered just what had come back from the war-zone, what had made him refuse all contact with Frank. Frank had come over to see them as soon as clearance had been given that Jack was alive and coming home on a medical transport. None of them could quite believe it was true. There had been some incident between them at the first hospital Jack was admitted. It was all very awkward; she'd known Frank and his wife Nancy as long as she'd known Jack. She liked Nancy and found Jack's impassioned hatred, unforgiving and painful for all of them. It was an extra burden she could do without right now. She should be happy. Why wasn't she happy?

It was her Jack, in body, if not in spirit. Being a POW for four months was likely to break or at least partially break that fine stubborn spirit she knew so well. She knew that the body had been broken, and they'd hinted at the nature of other injuries. That was why he hadn't come back straight away. And why they'd said he still needed a lot of time before he could go back to even light duties. And as for active status? Who knew?

He's alive, Sara reassured herself. The gaunt, sunburned, bearded figure of a man, lost in his uniform stood at the end of the driveway, as if he didn't know what to do next. A small duffle bag at his feet. He watched them, his eyes flicking to the house, Charlie's bike and a ball on the driveway.

Taking a deep breath, clutching Charlie's hand, she walked to meet him.

"Mom, who's that?"

"It's your daddy Charlie, don't you remember? I told you he was coming home today."

"That's not daddy!"

"It is, I promise."

"He doesn't look like daddy! Why does he look like a pirate?"

Charlie was right; he did look a bit like a rusty pirate, short on rations and too much sun. She wondered about that, weren't prisoners locked up inside? Crazy thoughts. Don't think them. She'd never seen him with a beard. Facial injuries he'd sustained at the end of his captivity resulted in dental treatments, some recently. Shaving was probably painful.

"Well he did get lost in the sand for a while, but he's back now."

They reached Jack, Charlie hiding behind her.

"Jack? Welcome home." and she carefully leaned to kiss him, unsure of his response.

Jack jerked slightly in reaction and then brought his arms round and hugged her like he'd never let go, his face pressed against her neck breathing her in. Sara realised he was repeating her name over and over. God, he felt so thin, so *not* Jack. He even smelled like the hospital. She promised herself she wouldn't cry as she hugged him back. She failed.

A small hand tugged her leg.

"Mommy?"

Jack let go of her, and slowly bent down to Charlie's level. Sara took the opportunity to wipe her eyes.

"Hey Charlie, it's so good to see you, son." Jack said his voice still rusty from injuries and disuse.

"Are you my daddy?"

"I sure am pumpkin." Charlie did not look convinced, but he let himself be hugged. The hug was like one of daddy's but he was too thin and didn't smell quite the same. And then he was picked up just like his daddy used to, and Charlie put his arms round his neck. He didn't like the prickly beard though.

Sara picked up the bag and together they went into the house.

"Play aeroplanes daddy!" shouted Charlie as they came into the lounge.

"Sorry sport, I'm going to have to put you down now. Aeroplanes, another time okay?" only home a minute and already he was disappointing his kid, Jack thought, but he wasn't strong enough to heave him a round at the moment. He was still in rehab for his damaged shoulder and back amongst many other things.

And just being inside was beginning to freak him out. Heck, just being home was truly weird. Like a dream come true. Was he going to wake up back in.? No! Don't go there Jack! Sometimes he had refused himself the luxury of thinking of Sara and Charlie and home for fear it might weaken him. * _'Just saying it could even make it happen'_ *. Throughout everything they had been his lifeline, something to come home to and for. His reason for being. And now he was home, he didn't know what was supposed to happen next.

##########

 **'Please forgive me if I act a little strange...for I know not what I do'** [Please forgive me by David Gray]

No matter how hard they both tried to pretend everything was normal, it was obvious things weren't.

Sara made breakfast pancakes like always. Jack had slept in only because he'd been awake most of the night trying to get used to the sounds of the house and Sara and Charlie. By the time he made it down stairs Charlie was on his second one, a moustache of chocolate syrup round his mouth. Jack didn't know if he was hungry or not, he supposed he should be. There was food so he sat down at the table. He struggled slowly through one and gave up on the second pancake. It was too sweet. And he really wasn't that bothered.

"It's okay Jack, just leave it honey," Sara was shocked at how little Jack ate. Normally he ate at least four.

Charlie stared at him, the chocolate moustache now overlaid by the milk in his glass. He put the glass down.

"How come daddy can leave his food? I'm not allowed to!"

"He can leave it if he wants to," answered Sara.

"Why?"

"Charlie, finish your milk and go wash up for school."

"He's right Sara."

"I thought I was trying to help."

"You are, it's just..." and Jack noticed Charlie's eyes wide, going from one parent to the other.

"Charlie it's okay. You know I got hurt while I was away right?" Jack looked at Sara for confirmation, she nodded at him, and he looked back at Charlie.

"Yeah," agreed Charlie slowly.

"Well, I'm still your daddy but it's going to take me while to feel better and get used to being home."

"Okay."

'Well that was easy' thought Sara. But it wasn't, not really. Like pasting tissue over the gushing hole in the dyke. It would never hold.

#################

Sara discovered that Jack wouldn't eat or drink at all unless she gave it to him or made him eat with them. And when he did eat he sometimes ate too fast, as if it would be taken away. Which it must have been sometimes, she realised. He ate it because it was there. He didn't seem to actively go and get food or drink if he was left to his own devices.

Some of the foods he used to eat with no problems were now firmly off the menu. Through trial and error she discovered that he hated watery soups, wouldn't eat lamb or pork, and definitely no rice dishes. Some mix of food or the smell of it literally made him sick.

Sara worked out that she should buy or make food that he could see exactly what it was. That it wasn't hidden in a soup or sauce with indistinguishable lumps in. Things like steak and chips, pizza, sandwiches

She'd find small stashes of fruit dotted around the house. She took to buying smaller bottles of water and leaving them around the house so that Jack could have one when he saw one or felt like one. Sometimes though he'd drink all the water he could find all at once, and that made him ill too. See - sawing from nothing to everything.

All she could think of was to try and get him to make sure Charlie had his dinner or drinks. Charlie wasn't stupid, he cottoned on quick. If Charlie was hungry and got Jack to make food, he made sure his beloved daddy ate some too. But even Charlie was learning that his dad reacted differently from day to day, week to week. They all watched each other warily trying not to do or say the 'wrong' thing.

#############

"Where's your dad, Charlie?" Sara asked one day when she suddenly realised she hadn't seen Jack for a while.

He looked up at her solemnly, "Hiding." he said, going back to building a Lego plane on the kitchen table.

"What?"

"He's playing hide and seek and he won't let me play."

"When Charlie? How long ago?"

"Don't know." He shrugged his shoulders at her "A while ago. I saw him but he didn't see me."

'Oh god,' Sara thought. "Where is daddy? I'm not mad at you."

"In your closet."

Well, she thought, that makes a change from the garage or the shed, or the under stairs cupboard.

Sadly he seemed at home in the dark small confined spaces he sought out. She had hoped that when he'd shaved off the awful beard after his face had healed from the facial and dental surgery, it might help him to recognise his usual face. But he was still unsure of himself. She caught him staring at himself in the mirror like he didn't know who he was. In the dark he knew who he was.

Sara worried about it. How could she not? It was where he bolted to when he felt tired, stressed or after a flashback or nightmare. She tried not to make a big deal out of it. She thought that if she absolutely banned him from those places she would lose him totally. In time he'd grow out of the need for them. That was the theory she and the doctors had figured out. Theory was fine in the doctor's office; it was the reality at home she cared about.

###########

Night time was variable. But she'd gone through some bad times with Jack in the past. This was different though. It was on a much larger scale.

Jack had insomnia, till he fell asleep exhausted only to wake up after a short period with a nightmare or flashback. Sara tried to shake him out of it one time, and found herself pinned to the bed with Jack's hand on her throat and him shouting incomprehensible words at her. Gradually he recognised her voice and apologised profusely. Another time he pushed her out of the bed entirely. He complained that the bed was too soft, there were too many pillows. Sometimes he took to sleeping on the floor, or abandoning her and taking refuge on the couch. He felt it was safer for all concerned if he did that. Sleeping in the open air in the garden was another option. Stargazing all night, eyes wide open. Jack asked her to hide his personal weapon where he couldn't find it. The implications scared them both, but she did it.

'Don't shut the curtains.' 'Leave the hall light on- we'll say it's for Charlie'.

The slamming of garage metal doors set him off one night. Jack's yell waking them both from hard won sleep. No more sleep that night nor the next while he waited for the noise to happen again. More muttering in a foreign language. More fighting with himself and sometimes Sara when she got in the way. Sara tried to remember the words and write them down. Maybe if she knew what he was saying she could help him.

Jack would go running as fast as his damaged knee and back would let him until he was exhausted. He was trying to chase the demons away but welcomed the pain and exhaustion. It was an old friend.

He had rehab every other day at the Air Force hospital, which resulted in good and bad days when he also had appointments with the shrinks. He always pushed himself too far in the exercises and then clammed up on the doctor's couch. In the debrief he reported military data to keep his superiors off his back. Jack told the doctors just enough that they didn't think he was going to go on the rampage with his gun. They all admitted he had some *issues* to deal with, but he was coping. He didn't tell them *everything*, some parts he kept to himself.

He took to locking the bathroom door, hiding his body from Sara, covering up.

He seemed extra sensitive to certain smells. He put more air fresheners in the bathrooms and toilets.

No touching 

No loving 

Don't ask! Don't tell!

#########

 **'I see a red door and I want to paint it black** ' [The Rolling Stones]

"Daddy I need to go," squirmed Charlie, looking up at him, abandoning his upturned sandcastle ring of turrets in the sand. Jack was okay with being at the beach and all the sand. This sand and the smell in the air were different to 'over there'. There were moments though, when he froze for a moment on hearing certain tones or foreign voices. Besides, it was good to get away from the house and the base once in a while.

"Okay." Jack looked round for Sara but she was busy talking to some friends on the beach. As he went past with Charlie he gestured towards the tourist toilets, and she nodded.

Jack didn't have a problem with it until he got closer and realised that it being a nice day and all, the toilets had been well used by the many visitors, and to him the smell was overpowering. Some of the lights were out; it looked dim in there too. Sweat trickled down his back.

"You go in Charlie."

"No! I don't want to go in on my own daddy."

"I'm right outside son."

"No!"

"We'll find another one."

"I need to go * _now*_ daddy."

Jack had no other option; he breathed through his mouth and hustled Charlie into an empty cubicle.

Crap, the washroom was even the same vile green colour, with metal doors, and tiled floors that could be hosed down easily. Jack latched onto the only out of place thing- Charlie. Memory smell, colour and noise assaulted him as he waited for Charlie.

Afterwards, as he lifted Charlie up so he could air dry his hands on the blower; he nearly dropped him as someone slammed the metal cubicle door shut. * _No! Not again! They're coming for me again! his brain screamed.*_

"That's it we're done," he said tightly and dragged Charlie out protesting.

Sara was waiting for them outside.

"What happened? You've been ages," she asked sharply, looking at both of them. Charlie looked scared and Jack looked like he'd just run a marathon.

"Next time you take him," was all Jack said as he passed her stalking off back to the beach.

And she wondered what possible dangers there could be taking 5 year old to the rest room. It had never bothered him before. Sara had managed to find an English-Arabic phrase book and was trying to work out what Jack said. But it wasn't easy trying to match what he said with her phonetically scribbled spelling with actual words in the dictionary. She wanted to help him, but knew he'd hate her going about it this way. She didn't know what else to do.

#########

 **'Here comes the rain again, falling on my head like a memory'** [The Eurythmics]

Sara turned over in bed. It was raining at last, how long she didn't know. The past week had been so hot no one knew how to deal with it. She realised that Jack wasn't next to her. He'd been tired and out of sorts all day. Maybe he went to check on Charlie. There was a rumble of thunder. She got up and looked in on him. Charlie was still asleep. But if the storm got worse he wouldn't be. Going down stairs she checked the usual places. Jack wasn't on the couch watching TV, not in the garage either.

Then she spotted the patio doors were open and in the first flash of lightening she saw him standing barefoot in the middle of the garden in a t-shirt and sweatpants, his head tilted up at the rain. He was soaked. It was odd, him just standing there. A bigger rumble of thunder rolled above them and she heard Charlie calling for her inside the house. She was torn. She needed to help Jack but how? And Charlie needed her too. She rushed back inside; Charlie stood at the top of the stairs.

"I don't like the big noise and I'm scared of the flashes mommy."

"It's okay baby, I'm here." she wished she could say it to Jack too, but he wouldn't let her near him. "It's only a thunderstorm. It'll chase all the hot air away and make it fresher and nicer. Won't that be good?"

Charlie shook his head "Can I sleep with you and daddy?"

"Let's get you a drink. How about that?" That's real good Sara, delay tactics learnt straight from Jack. She was wary of what might happen if Jack had a nightmare.

Charlie followed her down stairs and into the kitchen. His keen eyes spotted the open patio doors.

"Why's daddy standing in the rain? Won't he get wet?" he asked as she poured a glass of milk.

"You're right. Stay here in the kitchen and I'll get him." Sara went over to the patio doors and called,

"Jack?"

No answer. Sara dashed out into the garden to him.

"Jack!" she said sharply and tugged on his arm. Suddenly he whirled around and grabbed her arms pushing her back as he did so. He shouted at her in that language again.

"Jack, you're scaring us. Come inside now." She was wet too now.

He blinked owlishly at her and looked at himself. There was a spectacular crash and flash of thunder and lightening. Sara pulled him into the house, silent and unresisting.

"Charlie, Daddy's fine. Why don't you get into bed?"

"Stay there a minute, Jack," she ordered as she followed Charlie upstairs to get him settled.

When she came back downstairs Jack was still standing where she'd left him, shivering and dripping onto the floor. Annoyed, she grabbed some towels from the done laundry pile in the kitchen.

"Why didn't you step over here, get a towel and dry off?" she asked as she rubbed Jack's hair almost dry and dried his feet, doing the same for herself.

"You told me to stay here," he replied.

Sara didn't know what to make of that as she wrapped a larger towel round his shoulders and led him upstairs to the bathroom. He sat on the edge of the bathtub.

"What on earth were you doing?" she asked hoping to get some response.

"Looking at the rain. Feeling the rain. I dreamt of rain, it's been so hot. And it rained. It felt nice." His reply was flat and full of something she wanted to know about and didn't know if he would ever explain.

"How long were you out there?"

He shrugged his shoulders at her like a child.

"You're freezing Jack," she said irritated with his attitude. She reached for his t-shirt with one hand and leant and turned the shower over the tub on with the other. His cold hand on hers stopped her from removing the t shirt.

"Okay Jack I'll leave you,"

When she heard him pull the shower door shut, she reached in and put the dry clothes on the chair by the door.

"Is daddy okay?" asked Charlie sitting in their big bed clutching his teddy.

"I think so Charlie. He just liked the rain that's all. Have you drunk all that milk?"

He nodded.

The storm outside seemed to have passed and she wondered if Jack's had too.

"Okay, then snuggle down baby. You want a story?"

"No."

Minutes later the bathroom door opened and Jack appeared out of the steam. He paused for a moment at the sight of Charlie and Sara cuddled up together. He warred with himself, get in with them or retreat to the couch? Taking a deep breath he got in.

"Hey Charlie," he said softly as he got in and kissed his forehead.

Charlie turned over sleepily, "Daddy!" he breathed happily.

Jack spent the rest of the night watching them sleep; finally he dozed off just before dawn.

######################### 

**'My baby just cares for me'** [Nina Simone] 

The following day Jack woke up in the empty bed with a dry throat and slight headache. He didn't tell Sara, she'd only say it was his own fault.

The day after that he had a sore throat, and felt sniffly and had to search for tissues on and off all day.

"It's just a cold!" he said batting Sara away.

"Then take something for it."

"It'll work itself out."

"What if it doesn't? You're still not eating enough Jack. You're not 100%!"

"Dammit, don't you dare!"

"Dare what Jack? It's the truth! And the truth hurts doesn't it?" taunted Sara.

Anger rose swiftly and Jack threw the half full mug of coffee across the kitchen. It hit the opposite cabinet and shattered, spilling coffee down onto the floor

"Well, did that make you feel better huh? Jack? You can clean it up!" Sara muttered at him as she began to gather her purse and shopping list.

Jack sneezed. "I'm not going to any more damned doctors."

"Fine! Then get sick. I don't care!"

"I won't!"

The door slammed on his reply. Sara was gone.

But he did get sick. And Sara did care. A truly rotten cold settled in his chest and developed into bronchitis. A dry cough and low fever laying him low and keeping him in bed.

"Hey Jack are you awake?"

"Wha?"

"Drink this; it'll help clear your chest." Sara put more pillows behind him to help him breathe easily.

"Geordie?"

"Who?"

"Geordie." 

"No Jack, it's Sara."

"I'm not going to die!"

"Whoever said that?"

"They'll leave my body in here with you to rot, they will." He rasped before coughing again.

"Oh Jack, I'm here, it's alright. You're not going to die."

"Bastards....sick"

"Yes you're sick, Jack. But everything's going to be alright."

"No! They're sick.2

"Who, Jack? You can tell me,"

"NO! Not telling! So hot, wish it would rain...not going back in the box, I won't!"

"It's you that's hot Jack, you're feverish, love."

"I'm sorry," he wheezed.

"Just get better Jack", but she could tell he wasn't seeing her

"Won't get better if you're dead, if you're not here," he said

"I'm not dead Jack. And I'm right here"

"I was there, I saw!" he said beginning to pant and heave for breath.

"Calm down Jack," she urged.

"I couldn't stop it. You're dead!"

"Who's dead Jack?"

"You saved me and now you're dead. They killed you! They killed so many. I had to watch," he said calming a little but coughing hard.

"Shhh Jack. Let it go. Rest please". Sara soothed washing his hot face with cold water.

His eyes shut as he leaned into the coolness. He was murmuring under his breath as he fell asleep.

Sara was upset that the only way she could work out some of Jack's untold story was when he was ill and she had to change his clothes and the bedding. So she'd got some glimpses of his body in her haste to get him cooled down and into dry clothes. Before this he had blocked all of her attempts to get close to him. To be a wife. It never bothered him before, but now he always made sure he was covered up.

Over the next week he gradually got better and was angry when he realised that she had seen his body. She had always loved his long lean body and she wasn't about to quit now just because there were more marks on it. But it bothered him a lot. Sara wondered if it was his way of blocking out some of what happened to him. She had managed to work out some words Jack said in his bad dreams, swearing, denials, asking for water and reciting his name, rank and serial number. Jack must never know about the phrase book and her research, she decided.

################### 


	2. Chapter 2

“Loving the alien” [David Bowie]

Some weeks later, Jack came home while she was watching some report on the World news TV channel. It was a piece on a variety of British allied units still in Iraq , clearing up.

“Hey, I'm back,” he called from the hallway.

“Good day?” she asked.

The reporter had worked his way through different specialties- engineers, medics and a typical soldier and had just got to an SAS officer (who was blacked out on the screen) when Jack came in and stood behind when she was sitting on the couch.

“Uhh, so- so.” he replied. Jack was back on light duties, some paperwork and still had the odd debriefing and evaluations up the ‘wazzoo' as he put it.

The British officer's voice came over clearly as he talked in general terms what his units might or might not still be doing.

“Holy crap,” he whispered. Sara turned to look up at him; he'd gone white as a sheet. The American reporter's voiceover behind her explaining the captions on the screen. Pictures of men the unit had lost in the conflict.

“Jack?” she asked worried. Things had been calmer for a while now. He stood riveted to the spot staring at the TV. The reporter had linked in a report from British TV that appeared to be a local sound bite about the family of one of the dead men. It seemed they wanted to know exactly what had happened to him, but the Army wasn't providing any answers.

“Ahh, shit!” Jack spat as he began to pace up and down. The news report moved onto somewhere else in Iraq .

“Jack… did you know some of those British soldiers?”

“Not…all of them,”

Sara knew this was something important for him to have reacted so strongly. He looked awful, panicked. She wasn't sure if he was going to throw up, pass out or both. She decided to make an educated guess and hope that she could cope with the resulting fallout.

“Who is Geordie, Jack?”

“What?” Jack whirled round “Where did you hear that?”

“You told me.”

“Never!”

“When you were ill last month, that cold and bronchitis that you didn't have?”

“Oh, for crying out loud,” he muttered and kicked the trash bin across the floor, watching the bits fall out as it rolled around.

“Well?” Sara prompted.

“Well, what?”

“You knew one of those British soldiers. What has you spooked, Jack? Tell me!” she ordered.

“Don't! Just don't! Okay?” Jack walked over to the patio doors and desperately looked for the key to unlock it.

“You know how he died and his family don't?” Sara accused as she followed him and reached for his arm.

“Don't touch me!” he shouted flinging her hand off, he hit the glass door hard with his fist, scaring her into thinking he would break it. He managed to unlock the door with his other hand. Wrenching it open he staggered outside into the fresh air of the garden.

“Jack?”

“Oh God. Oh God,” he chanted turning slightly to her, wobbling as he did so. He was breathing very fast. The stress was making him hyperventilate.

“Look at me!” she said as she steered him to the nearest seat.

“Calm down, watch me breathe. Slowly, Jack.”

He shook his head at her.

She grabbed his face between her palms forcing him to look at her. She could feel the stress his body was under.

“Slowly! In and out. Watch me Jack. Deep breaths.”

Gradually his breathing matched hers and she dropped her hands. They sat on the bench for a long time, side by side but still not together.

“You were right. I knew him. I was there…. when he was k…killed.” Jack said suddenly in the gathering gloom. He gave a deep sigh.

“Can you tell me? Would it help?” she tentatively asked.

“NO!” he shouted startling her, and bent forward to cradle his head in his hands.

“Sorry. Not yet. I need more time.” he continued in a softer tone.

“But what about his family, Jack? He'd want them to know wouldn't he? If the situation were reversed, I'd want to know.” Sara pressed.

“They would, he…he asked me to. I just can't deal with it now.”

“Well, perhaps if you wrote rather than phoned them it would be easier to start with.” she suggested.

“Maybe, I don't know. I'll think about it.”

Sara knew that was as far as he was prepared to go for now. But she'd learnt a few valuable things. More missing pieces.

“I'm going to start dinner, what do you fancy?”

“Don't care, you choose.”

Jack sat in the garden nursing his headache and nausea until she called him inside for dinner- which he didn't eat. He gave up chasing peas round the plate. Sara knew better by now than to argue one way or another about the food. He grabbed a beer and sat back outside for the rest of the evening, brooding.

#########

Sara woke up to the sound of something smashing in the bathroom. Then silence. It could only be Jack. Charlie was at her parents for the week. She went to the bathroom wondering what she would find, how she would tell Charlie. She'd been scared earlier in the day when he'd banged his fist against the patio door in his anger and desperation to get out.

Jack was sitting barefoot on the bathroom floor, blood on the smashed cabinet mirror doors and on his t shirt and sweat pants. Blood from cut and bruised fists ran over his hands and dripped onto the floor as he sat there unmoving. Shards of silver glittered over the floor and sink.

“Jack?” she tentatively asked.

“I hate what I've become, what happened to me. ” he said flatly.

“Can I come in?”

He shrugged his shoulders at her.

Stepping carefully round him she found a wash cloth and dropped it on his lap. He ignored it.

“Jack, are you with me? You hit the cabinet doors? It's just your knuckles, not your wrist?”

He nodded as she lifted the hands and placed them on the wash cloth.

“Don't move until I clear some of this up okay?”

He nodded again. She was back in a moment with a dustpan and brush to clear up the debris. Then she spread towels on the floor just in case she missed any.

“Talk to me Jack. Don't do this. If you lose it they'll section you and I'll never get you back. We need you. Keep fighting; I know you can make it. Please let me help, even if you don't think I can understand what happened to you.”

Jack's head jerked up at that.

“Use you anger, that strength to get better, not at *them*, prove to them that they don't have any power over you anymore.”

Jack shook his head.

“If you don't get better Jack, Charlie and I will be joining you in that padded room. I don't know how much more of this we can take, he's five years old Jack. He doesn't understand. And you're scaring him away. I know you love him. You were great …before. You need to be again, for all our sakes.”

“I can't! I can never be the same person I was…..before!” Jack gasped, the dam finally breaking.

“Yes, you can. You've come such a long way Jack. Don't give up now.” Sara pleaded; it was all she had left and she felt such a loser for begging like this.

“I'm *so* tired.” Jack said.

“I know. Let me look at those hands.”

“How can even you stand to look at me or touch me?”

“What?” she asked surprised thinking it was the other way around.

“The scars and the bad dreams, I've hurt you and I'm so sorry for that. You must think about it- imagining what they did to me”

“I don't…”

“Don't lie to me!” he snapped angrily.

“Okay. Yes! I tried to imagine! I had to because you won't show me. You won't talk. You won't let me help you. Then I hate myself for wanting to try and imagine what happened to you. And it goes round and round in my head.”

Sara stood up and got some bandages and scissors out of the wrecked cabinet.

“Can you stand up? We need to wash this out.”

Slowly with her helping him up he stood and moved over to the sink.

She turned the tap on and pushed his hands under it, the water turning pink. After a moment she lifted one back up and peered intently at it. “I don't think I can see anything in there.” She repeated it for the other hand.

She bandaged the knuckles and fingers.

Without thinking she gently kissed each finger “kiss it all better” she said just like she would have done for Charlie.

Sara realised what she had done. Jack had not made any advances to her in the months since he came back always using the excuse that he was tired or not feeling well. He won't let her be close to him. She felt useless and very hurt that he didn't want her any more.

She looked up at his face. It was expressionless unreadable, but his dark eyes were filled with pain and longing.

“Would you really kiss it all better?” he said softly surprising them both.

“Oh Jack of course, if you want me to…”

He moved away from her and she wanted to cry. She put the bandages back in the cabinet. When she turned round Jack was watching her, as she made to go past him into the dark bedroom his hand on her arm stopped her.

“No,” he said.

“Jack?”

He shook his head and suddenly took off his t shirt wincing as the movement hurt his grazed hands. He still needed to put some weight on, his ribs still too defined for her liking. There was a reddish scar along his rib line that she hadn't seen before and other odd marks on his torso. Slowly he turned around in the glare of the bathroom lighting. There were marks on his back too as well as thin scars in an odd pattern…like…. like…a whip perhaps. Along his right shoulder there were recent surgery scars. He turned again so he faced her.

Jack looked so lost. He didn't want her pity, Sara knew that. Hoping she was doing the right thing at last, she stepped closer and picked up a hand and gently looked at it, she knew he'd had surgery to reset fingers and she kissed each finger again, and then moved to the wrist. She knew he'd been handcuffed and bound at times. She looked at his face; he let out a big sigh but didn't move away.

She worked her way across his chest pressing her lips to each mark she found. His heart was pounding next to her ear. Something splashed onto her. She looked up, Jack was crying, his eyes tight shut.

“Love, I'm here. Shhh baby. It's alright.”

He made some inarticulate noise and pulled her to him his arms tight round her, his chest heaving. She reached up and framed his face with her hands and kissed his teary eyes and finally his lips.

“I'm right here Jack…. with you.” And they stood there clutching each other.

“Oh god” he said not quite believing he was going to give in to the comfort, the need, the love he now saw instead of pity. “Help me” he said at last. And some of the dark places within him shattered.

Sara took a bandaged hand, turned off the bathroom light and led him over to their bed. He got in and lay there on his side looking at her as she got in.

He reached out towards her and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. His hand dropped to her neck gently rubbing it. She put her hand on his. He turned his face into the pillow.

“I thought about you and Charlie lots of times. It …helped me get through…it” he said.

“Oh, Jack...” she started to say.

“I thought it would be different when I got back. Things would magically be okay. But it wasn't and I didn't know how to fix it…” he continued.

Sara edged closer to him, she could feel the heat of his body next to hers. He didn't move away.

“There seemed to be so many good and bad things competing for attention that I gave up and drifted. I didn't know who or where I was sometimes. You were like a dream I'd had so many times it couldn't be real,” he stopped to wipe his eyes.

“I know what they did to me but at the same time I wanted to pretend it never happened. And if no one else saw the real me then everything was alright. But the doctors tried to get me to talk to them. I told them enough to get them off my back but not…everything. Then the rehab plain hurt so I was hiding from them too. I'm sorry.”

“Who knows what the right way is or was Jack. You're here now that's all that matters to me and Charlie. The doctors have their theories and know what other people have or haven't done. But you're one person Jack, you. It's how you make it work that counts. I'm just glad you're finally letting me in.” Sara whispered to him, reaching out to caress his face.

“Can ... I just hold you?” he asked hesitantly.

“If that's what you want Jack. But yes of course. We'll take it slow.”

Slowly he pulled her to him, wriggling his other arm under her to complete his embrace. As always she fit neatly into his shoulder. His heart was pounding she realised. She waited. Slowly he calmed down. She wondered if he would fall asleep.

“I never stopped loving you,” he murmured into her neck. She felt so good, so soft.

“I know,” she said. Sara had missed his hugs, and the way he held her close. She had always felt safe with him. This time it was his turn to be loved and soothed.

“I need you.”

“I need you too Jack.”

“I do want to love you,” he said.

“I know,” she repeated

“I …I don't know if I can.”

She shifted to look at him while she thought about this. She was lying snug against his body and she could tell that tonight he was only interested in talking and snuggling. That would teach her to think that everything would be fine now. Two steps forward, one step back. That was the pattern of their life now.

“This is fine Jack. I've missed this closeness just as much as the loving. Keep talking to me. You know you can tell me anything don't you?” well almost anything, apart from how one soldier died, she thought.

“Umm. How can I put this…amongst other ways of trying to get me to tell them about our mission, or pretty much anything…. they got a little creative with their toys….” he said hesitantly.

“Permanent creative …or…?” she asked quietly, she could feel him trembling slightly and his heart rate spiked for a moment. But he didn't pull away from her. He held on.

“Umm. The docs said everything would be okay, all healed up and all. But … umm things…kinda shocked into hiding for the time being, I think was the docs conclusion,” there was a slight pause “I can't believe I just said that,” he replied. He was tired of hard edges and blunt pain. No more. Finally. He wanted to lose himself in the one person he trusted to catch him.

“It's just me, Jack. No-one to be scared of. I love you and I'm so glad you're here with me. I'm sure together we can encourage things to come out of hiding…”

Sara couldn't help but smile round the horrible image he'd just presented her with, because his comment meant he was going to be okay. Which meant they would be okay. Probably. Given a little more time and patience. Maybe he would write a long letter to a grieving family the other side of the Atlantic . And maybe one day he'd tell her what he'd written.

########################

“I'm still standing better than I ever did; looking like a true survivor…I'm still standing after all this time, picking up the pieces of my life…” [Elton John]

“I made your favourite.” Sara announced, standing in the kitchen packing something into a tin.

“What's that?”

“Chocolate hazelnut and coconut cake, of course.”

“Oh, okay.”

“Don't you want any?”

“I guess. I don't remember what it tastes like,” Jack wasn't focused on the food so much as the thought that they were off to the wide open spaces of Minnesota any moment.

“That's why I made it Jack.”

“How do you do this?” he asked curiously.

“Eggs, butter, cocoa…”

“Not the cake. This. Us. How did you know what to do? I pushed you away so much. But you wouldn't let me go. Why?”

“You really have to ask Jack?”

“Yes.”

“Because I love you Jack. And Charlie needs his dad too. I need you. You didn't die over there, you came back to me. You thought you were out of the Air Force when your chute didn't open six years ago. We made it through that. We'll make it through this. If you'd still been talking to Frank, you could have told him the stuff you can't tell me. God knows that would have helped. Because there's things I know you bottle up and I can't reach you.”

“Don't mention Frank again.” he said abruptly.

“Okay I'm sorry. I won't.” he was still very prickly over some subjects, but things had been a lot better lately.

“Ah, you get everything you want packed?” Jack asked after a pause.

“Sure.”

“What time did Mike say he'd drop Charlie off?”

“Any moment now. I've got his clothes done, but he can pick out which three toys he can bring with him.”

“Sounds like a good plan.”

“So was the one suggesting we have a few days to ourselves, and then go up to your grandpa's cabin, just the three of us.”

“I have lots of interesting ideas,” he said patting her on the behind as he passed her to go through to the garage. Sara smiled after him. Glad that he felt able to feel alive again. His moods were still a little unpredictable. Hopefully the cabin in Minnesota would complete the healing begun here in this house as well as the physical healing in the hospitals over the last few months.

She knew the open air and scenery at the cabin would be good for all of them. Hopefully she and Jack could continue to get reacquainted with their relationship as friends and lovers. She was sure Sid at the store could keep an eye on Charlie if needed. But Jack knew plenty of out of the way places up there…

Things were still holes in the puzzle that was Jack O'Neill that she would never find. She had to accept that. But every now and then they'd find a new piece that fit, or turn around one that was jammed in the wrong place and put it where it belonged.

#####################

“Fields of gold” [Sting]

“Are we there yet?” asked Charlie for what felt like the hundredth time. Jack's sun glassed eyes met Sara's as they both said “No”.

“Aww, we're never gonna get there…” sulked Charlie in the back seat, listless in the heat and bored.

“Not much longer now, I promise,” said Jack, glancing in the mirror at his impatient son, before keeping an eye on the busy road ahead.

“You always say that!”

“Okay how about I- SPY then?” suggested Jack.

There was a heavy sigh from the back seat.

“Alright I'll start,” continued Jack undaunted. “I spy with my little eye something beginning with…..t.”

“Traffic,” said Sara

“Nope. Charlie?”

“Trucks.”

“Good guess, but no.”

“Tyres,” said Sara

“Nope.”

“Trees.”

“That's it, lots and lots of trees, good job Charlie. And it's also t for turn off. Do you remember where we are now Charlie?” said Jack as he indicated and turned off the Interstate.

“Is this the road to the Peterson's and then Sid and the store and then the cabin?” asked Charlie hopefully, taking a more lively interest in the scenery outside the car.

“I didn't think you'd remember.” answered Sara turning round to look at their son.

“Kid's got a good eye for detail,” murmured Jack.

“Yeah and he's still only a kid, so don't go thinking things…” Sara said knowing if Jack could he'd enrol him now for the Air Force. It reminded her suddenly of all they'd been through lately and why they were headed for the seclusion of the O'Neill family cabin.

“Hey.”

“I'm sorry…I shouldn't have said that.”

“Maybe you should,” Jack replied flatly, his hands tightening momentarily on the steering wheel.

###################

By the time they made it to Sid's store, Jack had to force himself out of the driver's seat. Only twenty more miles to the cabin and he could have done with out the stop. It meant he'd have to unkink his back and then get back in the car again. But he couldn't miss seeing Sid; the guy would never forgive him. And when he thought about it, Sid, the store and the dreams of fishing at the cabin was another part of his life that had helped him in his four months of hell.

Sara and Charlie went on ahead; Jack got out of the car and stood up carefully. Digging his hands into his back he tried to ease the knotted muscles. Doing that aggravated his aching shoulder too. Yes he was fit, well fitter than he had been, but he hadn't driven long distance for a while, and everything was ganging up on him.

“Jack, you son of a gun!” bellowed Sid from the store's porch, “Dammit, you okay?”

“Fine Sid. How are you?” said Jack turning round.

“Fine, he says,” muttered Sid as he came down the steps and met Jack by the car. “Jesus, it's been too long,”

“Yeah, well the best laid plans and all that….” Jack half joked.

“So…you home for good now or what?” asked Sid.

“Back on light duties. Taking it slow for a while. Still might get shipped out somewhere. You never know.” was all Jack could reply.

“Ahh, well,” commented Sid, as they stood leaning against Jack's car waiting for Sara and Charlie.

“So…you doing okay Sid? Anybody new in your life that I should know about?”

“I'm fine. I got Gene and Martha to help out during the busy season. But you know - Tanya was special. I'm not looking to replace her, you know?”

“Yeah you're absolutely right. Some women are really special,” agreed Jack. They stood in comfortable silence watching the birds flit about and the trees rustle in the light breeze. Behind Sid, Jack could see Sara coming out with grocery bags, Charlie had an ice cream.

Jack could see Sid was looking at him to see if he was different in some way. “I'd better help Sara,” he said, clapping Sid's arm as he went past.

“Anything you need, Jack. I'll be here.”

“Thanks.” replied Jack nodding, knowing Sid meant more than bait for the fish, or logs for the fire.

#############

“This wasn't quite how I planned on spending the first night,” muttered Jack as he lay on the decking, waiting for the pain killers to dull the throb in his back and shoulder. The bed was too soft at the moment even if it did have one attraction- Sara was in it. He did have a great view of the night sky though, and that was double plus good.

The O'Neill family had settled into their usual cabin routine of unpacking, putting things away, checking the generator etc. Charlie went off to his favourite spot, promising not to go near the water. They were all tired from the journey….

*Tell me what I want to know!*

*You can't make me*

*Oh but I can…*

*Stop! You don't have to do this!*

*But I do. You won't help me Jonathon. It's all your fault this is happening*

*Bullshit! This is nothing to do with me!*

*No, you are mine now. I know the spread of your bones, the stretch of your muscles, and how high the pulley in the ceiling needs to be, so that everything is just right for these little chats of ours….*

“Jack wake up!” Sara's hand was on his arm. He sat up startled.

“What?” he asked confused his heart racing, sweat trickling down his face.

“You were making a noise. Are you okay now?”

“I guess. I didn't wake Charlie did I?” Jack wiped his face.

“No,” Sara said quietly, “He's sound asleep. All the fresh air!”

“Sweet.”

“It's getting chilly out here, you'd better come back in anyway,” commented Sara, reaching down to give him a hand. They had come a long way down this rocky road of Jack's. He took her hand gratefully and eased his sore lean body upright.

Jack drifted off to sleep after a gentle massage and the pills finally kicked in as a last resort, Sara's hand resting on the small of his back felt like it belonged there. Dimly he remembered he had intended to look after her tonight. Keep her warm and snug. He'd managed a thank you kiss and that was about it for tonight. Disappointment flooded through him. An opportunity missed, he thought sleepily, and they'd been doing so well…. Gotta be a Plan B somewhere, sometime over the next week.

##################

“Jack, we can't!” Sara sounded shocked but she wasn't exactly an unwilling participant.

“Why not?” Jack said undoing another button and sliding his hand under Sara's shirt. This was what he called an open air picnic…..

“Oh God, cause Charlie and Sid are…mmpf” her words were cut off as Jack kissed her. One hand waved vaguely in the direction of the lake. Jack captured the hand and pinned it down above Sara's head.

He released her mouth, his dark eyes forcing her to look at him while his body leaned into hers as he spoke.

“They're fishing on the lake down there. We are up here. They can't see us!”

“Sure?”

“Would I lie to you?”

Sara shook her head.

“We might have to be quiet though…” he smiled at her. She laughed. Risk taker flyboy….

“Now…where were we…?” he said playfully.

“Here,” Sara replied pulling him towards her. He was nobody else's but hers now and for the rest of their lives.

“Oh yeah…”

#########

Sid looked up from tidying the fishing rods and bait boxes as Jack and Sara returned. He watched them walk towards him holding hands. He was pleased to see that they both looked much better than when they'd arrived a week ago. Sid was glad of the chance to go fishing on the lake and Charlie was no bother.

“Have a good walk?” he asked with a knowing smile.

“Absolutely. It had its ups and downs…” Jack's mouth twitched as Sara swatted his backside. Sid just laughed and shook his head at them.

Charlie raced out of the cabin when he heard their voices.

“Hey pumpkin! Did you catch any fish?” asked Sara bending down to pick him up for a hug.

“No, we didn't. But it was okay. Mommy?”

“Yes.”

“Why have you got grass and stuff in your hair and shirt?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

*“In his arms she fell, as her hair came down, among the fields of barley…

Feel her body rise when you kiss her mouth, among the fields of gold.

I never made promises lightly, and there have been some that I've broken.

But I swear in the days still left, we'll walk in fields of gold.”*


End file.
